So Far Gone, Farther Yet to Go
by jacksparrow589
Summary: If war didn't deaden your nerves, drinking certainly did. With that in mind, Havoc and Riza set out to wipe away Ishval, if only for a few hours. Unfortunately, success is anything but sweet. T for mild language.


**So Far Gone, Farther Yet to Go**

**A/N: If you've read "Better Left Unsaid", then you'll know where this came from, but it's not necessary. Basically, I just wondered if Riza might have gotten seriously smashed after coming home from Ishval. You have to admit, it's a possibility, with how horrible she feels.**

**Also, pretending Riza knew Havoc since before the military.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT advocate for underaged drinking and/or getting drunk in general. If you're going to drink, be safe about it, and if you know someone who has a problem and you think you can help, by all means, do so!**

"I'm _so_ gone." Her tone was equal parts amusement and despair.

Havoc glanced sideways at Riza with somewhat blurry eyes. This had been a bad idea, and he'd known it, but he justified it by telling himself that if she got shit-faced enough once, she'd probably never do it again. That probably wasn't all of it, but he didn't care to think too much on deep, serious things at the moment. "How far gone's that, exactly?"

Riza ticked the points off on her fingers. "I feel _really_ addled, I can't tell up from down, my judgment's gone to hell, and I don't give a damn about any of it." She grinned lopsidedly. "I think I might be a little sad, though."

Rolling his eyes, Havoc pushed himself up from the bar and grabbed Riza, who quickly downed the rest of her gin and tonic. They were both going to regret this little excursion in the morning, and he had known it before they'd even entered the bar, but maybe it would put some things in perspective.

"You're staying at my place tonight. You won't be able to take care of yourself in the morning. Hell, I'm surprised you can stand up at all."

"So'm I," Riza admitted, actually sounding fairly stunned, herself. "But how do I know you won't get up to anything funny?"

"'Cause that'd be like screwing around with my little sister," Havoc answered honestly.

Riza put together a look that resembled "quizzical". "You don't _have_ a li'l sister, Havoc."

"Yeah, I do—_you_," he told her.

She kissed his cheek. "You're so _sweet_."

Suppressing a genuine shudder, in what he suspected was going to be his most profound moment of clarity during this whole ordeal, Havoc informed Riza, "And you're _really_ creepy when you're drunk."

Riza seemed to think about this. "I don't feel creepy. I don't know what I do feel, 'cause I mostly don't feel much, but it's not creepy."

"_Great_. Emotionally confused drunks are _so_ much fun to deal with," murmured Havoc. If Riza heard him, she gave no indication. "Hey. You still alive?"

"Mmhmm." Riza nodded. "It's kinda funny, though. I'm thinking about stuff that should really hurt. But it doesn't, and I don't get why. I mean, this is _really_ terrible." He didn't know—didn't want to—and yet, Havoc had to agree: if anything besides very confused, Riza sounded only very vaguely emotional, and he wasn't quite sure what emotion it was.

He half-barked-half-stifled a laugh. "You won't be able to think about anything tomorrow morning except just how shitty you feel. Enjoy the numb while it lasts."

"I'm so numb I can't even enjoy it," Riza remarked.

Havoc looked over again. Now Riza was crying, the tears silently sliding down her cheeks. He doubted she was even aware of it. _Wonderful_. "Out of curiosity, have you been drunk before?"

"Yeah. Once or twice at Chris's, once in the academy, and a few times in Ishval. Nothing even _close_ to this bad, though." She looked and sounded almost proud, but abruptly switched to mildly annoyed. "But getting bombed isn't much fun when you can't feel anything."

"Good. So don't do it again, okay?"

Riza shrugged. "You said I won't want to after tomorrow."

"Not unless you're a masochist, and you're kind of making me start to wonder." Havoc shook his head. As incredibly interesting as this was, he was very much dreading tomorrow. Even a few hours from now, the numb would start to wear off, and once it did… Oh God… what the (he couldn't even think of a word to use to describe just how bad the situation was) had he gotten himself into?

* * *

Havoc had known he would wake to the sound of retching. He'd counted on it. And he'd set Riza to rest in a nest of dirty old blankets he wouldn't need again in preparation for it. He'd also set several tubs and buckets next to her, just in case she had the presence of mind to use them.

It was seven in the morning. His neighbors wouldn't be happy, but he'd have to start cooking. Neither of them would really want food, but they'd need it; that, and water.

He was surprised he didn't feel as horrible as he might—the headache was the worst of it, and it wasn't even as bad as most he'd had, not by a long shot. Then again, he recalled that he hadn't had nearly as much as he'd planned on, mostly because he had been the responsible one for once.

And he was going to have to continue to be.

Pushing himself up out of his bed, he yanked on a t-shirt and went out to start frying some eggs and bacon.

Riza wandered into the kitchen a few minutes later, her normally rather fair face splotched ashen, green, and red, her hair matted to her head where it wasn't sticking up, a sheen of sweat covered any visible skin, and her eyes bloodshot and glazed. "Havoc. Where's my gun." It wasn't even a question.

"Somewhere where you're not getting to it until I'm convinced that you won't even consider hurting yourself with it," Havoc told her breezily.

"I'll hurt _you,_" grumbled Riza as she sank into a chair and put her head in her arms.

Havoc turned and gave her a good looking over. "I'll go get you a different shirt. In the meantime…" he set a glass of water down by Riza. "Drink."

Riza shook her head but didn't lift it. Her voice was muffled as she argued, "It'll just come back up."

Taking one of Riza's hands, Havoc molded it around the glass, then gently tugged on Riza's shoulder with his other hand until she sat upright, despite her groans of protest. "You need to rehydrate. At least some of it will be absorbed." When Riza didn't move, he decided to take a less delicate approach. "Look, it's either that, or I take you to the hospital, and if questions are asked, we might be out on our asses, so _drink the damn water._"

Riza slowly brought the glass to her lips and sipped at it slowly. Havoc stayed to make sure she finished the whole glass. "Now stay here." He shoved a pail towards her. "Use only for emergencies." He darted to his bedroom and grabbed a shirt. Re-entering the kitchen, he was somewhat pleased to find that Riza looked just a little less ill. She was even poking at the eggs. "Are you up for a bit of that?"

Riza shrugged. "Maybe?"

Havoc smiled and put an arm around her shoulders. "Let's try it, then, shall we?"

* * *

A small-ish plate of eggs and bacon and another glass of water later, Riza was looking much improved, though she still claimed she didn't feel very well. Havoc wasn't surprised on that last count—he'd actually expected worse.

Now there was another obstacle: Major Roy Mustang. Havoc remembered him being Riza's father's student: reasonably well-tempered, if more than slightly ambitious due to a well-meaning, but still somewhat problematic messiah complex. From what Havoc had glimpsed in Ishval, he'd hardened some, but that was to keep himself from breaking, and Havoc could respect that. If you didn't have to harden yourself in Ishval, you were insane, like that alchemist who blew things (mostly people) up. He shuddered. If they never crossed paths again, it would be far too soon.

But back to business—"Hey, don't tell Mustang. He'll kill me."

Riza's eyes widened in horror. "You honestly think I'd let him know about this? If you think _you'd_ get the worst of it, you're _wrong_." When she didn't go into specifics, Havoc decided it was better not to ask.

"Go change into that shirt," he ordered. "And scrub the one you have on while you're at it."

Riza glared at him, but did as she was told. Havoc was glad Riza seemed to be coming to her senses now, but if she was, that also meant that Ishval would likely return to the forefront. He just couldn't win.

Glancing around the room, his focus fell on a picture of Riza, Roy, and himself playing cards during Roy's stay at the Hawkeyes', Riza having just won a round of… whatever it had been. The three of them were smiling, but Riza's grin was by far the broadest.

"Sooner we get done with whatever grand plan he has, sooner we can do that again." He sighed. "Now if only life was ever that simple."

**A/N: Never having gone beyond well-buzzed, I've never had a hangover, so all of this is pretty much guesswork. I did, however, check with Wikipedia (which, as we all know, knows EVERYTHING), and apparently, along with rehydration, eggs can be helpful in hangover relief.**

**And what would a story be without a song at least partially behind it? (Hey, it matters to me!) The song: "You Look Better When I'm Drunk" by White Tie Affair. Not a song I care to emulate, but it's so freaking CATCHY!**


End file.
